No Way in Hell (Stydia)
by laurensixx6
Summary: As he walked down the pathway of her driveway to his Jeep, a smile on his face at the goodnight kissed she placed upon his cheek, there was only one thing that consumed his thoughts. Or, one person. Spoilers for 5x05 (Stydia) Now a Two-Shot
1. I Killed Donovan

**Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf**

It was just like any other school night.

Lydia was sitting on her bed in her glamorous bedroom, finishing up the last of her AP Biology homework, a cup of warm tea next to her on her nightstand with her phone by her side in case of any supernatural problems that might come up in the tiniest bit of alone time she gets in her week.

Her mom was out late working, like usual. She wasn't quite sure just how her mother was dealing with the scene she saw the other night at the police station. Lydia knew that her mother didn't know what to make of it, exactly. But she did know that her mother wasn't suspicious of anything supernatural. At least not yet.

She hadn't been expecting any company. Ever since Allison's death, she hadn't really had anyone in her house besides her and her mother. She no longer threw the parties she used to be famous for. She no longer had a boyfriend that she could invite over. Hell, most of the time she was hardly home herself.

So, it came as quite a shock to her when the doorbell rang throughout the house, the echo sounding disturbingly haunting in the quiet house.

Seeing as she had been through quite a lot in the last few years in this town, she grabbed the baseball bat that she kept in the coat closet by the front door in her hand as she slowly made her way to open the door. Wrapping her hand around the doorknob while the other one clutched tightly to the baseball bat, she pulled open the door, sighing in relief at the figure who stood behind it on her porch.

Stiles.

She set aside the baseball bat, leaning it against the wall by the door before she looked back at Stiles. But the relief soon faded away as Lydia saw the look on Stiles' face.

A mixture of terror and guilt was displayed in big letters across his face as he looked down at the ground, his body shaking in just the way that it was noticeable. Her green eyes darted to his left hand that was limp at his side, taking in the familiar state of dried blood covering his fingers and knuckles.

Lydia looked back up at Stiles, to see that his eyes had shifted to her. The whiskey colored eyes that she knew so well, so filled with curiosity and worry for everyone around him, were now filled with terror, guilt, and sadness.

Quickly, Lydia grabbed his arm, pulling him over the threshold of her front door into the house, closing the door behind him. She kept hold of his arm as she dragged him through her house to the kitchen, sitting him in one of the chairs at the island. Scrounging the kitchen for a wash rag, she wet it before walking back over to Stiles, standing in front of him. On the bar stool, he was still taller than her, which gave her perfect access to his blood covered hand.

As she looked more closely to his hand, she realized that the blood was not his own.

They were silent as Lydia carefully cleaned off his blood covered hand. When she was done, she went back to the sink, washing off the now blood stained rag before setting it on the counter, making a mental note to remover it before her mother got home, before she went back over to stand in front of Stiles.

For a few more minutes, they were quiet. Lydia didn't want to pressure Stiles to say anything that he wasn't ready for. He's done this multiple times for her. She can do the same for him.

After about ten minutes of him sitting there and her standing there, he finally spoke up.

"I killed Donovan."

Lydia's eyes widened, not expecting to hear that. She placed a comforting hand on his right that rested on his thigh, her eyes going back to normal size as to not startle him. "What happened, Stiles?" Lydia asks, her voice soft while her thumb rubbed circles on the back of his hand.

Stiles let out a deep sigh before continuing on. "Malia and I were at the school, doing research in the library," he started. Lydia pretended not to wince at the sound of _Malia and I_. "I must've fallen asleep, because when I opened my eyes again, she was gone. I was by myself. So, I gathered all of my things before making my way out of the library and out to my Jeep.

"I intended to go straight home from there. But that was before my Jeep started having more problems. So, I started fixing it.

"I thought I was alone. I didn't even hear the footsteps approach from behind me. At one moment, I was just standing there, trying to figure out what the hell was wrong with my Jeep this time, and the next, there was this agonizing pain ripping through my shoulder. It felt like teeth were biting into my shoulder.

"I tried to fight back. I tried to reach for the wrench that sat on the hood of my Jeep. It took several minutes, but I managed to head butt Donovan, then hit him across the face with my wrench. I started running toward the school, and when I looked back, I saw Donovan already getting up. But there was something different about him.

"There was a stream of blood flowing out of his mouth and down the side of his left jaw. Like blood had dripped from his mouth. But that wasn't the only thing that was off. He had hundreds of teeth in his mouth," Stiles explained.

Lydia closed her eyes tight, letting a deep breath out. "Like a wendigo," she said quietly.

"Exactly like a wendigo. I figured soon enough that he was another chimera. So, I started running toward the school again. I made it to the library, managing to hide behind the bookshelves before he walked in.

"I had dropped my phone while running away from him, and he picked it up, shoving it in his pocket. He started running his mouth about the time my father apparently got his killed when he used to be my father's partner. I got so angry, Lydia, I thought that I was going to go after him right then. But I restrained myself, clutching the wrench in my hand like it was a lifeline.

"When he started going up the steps to the second level, I thought I was in the clear. I start coming out of the bookshelves quietly, making it the row over from the one I was hiding behind. I tried looking up to the second level from underneath, hearing for any footsteps with my back against the bookshelf. When I didn't hear any, that's when I got confused. Seconds later, a hand gripped my opposite shoulder, dragging me back through the bookcase, causing all the books to fall on me, and causing me to lose my grip on my wrench.

"I quickly got up from the ground, running to the elevation thing the construction guys were working on. But Donovan caught up to me, shoving me into the bars roughly, trying to get me to fall back down. I elbowed him in the face, sending him reeling back long enough for me to start climbing up the elevation tower.

"Once he recovered, he started climbing, too, grabbing ahold of my leg. He told me he wasn't going to kill me. He was just going to eat my legs. When I looked back up, I saw a ring that was holding the left side of the tower together.

"I reached for it. It took me several tries before I finally grasped it in my hand, pulling it out. One of the levels fell. A level with a bunch of posts resting on it. They all fell, and I thought I was in the clear for coming back down, when I heard the sickening sound of one of the posts slicing through skin. When I looked back down, I saw that Donovan had been impaled with one, the post propping him up while a pool of blood surrounded him on the ground.

"As I started descending the tower, a bunch of blood bubbled up from his mouth, spreading all over his face. I went to him, grabbing the post, getting ready to pull it out. But when I looked back at his face, I knew that he was already a goner when his head lulled back, his eyes not blinking, his chest not moving.

"I don't know how long I stared at him before I went to the phone, calling the police. I made sure not to speak, letting them think it was a prank call before hanging up. I started to walk out, placing a book in the door so it looked like just anyone could get in. But then I heard my phone start vibrating in his jacket pocket.

"When I walked back over to him, I was waiting for him to just jump scare me. But he never did. With one look at his body, I ran out of there.

"I got my Jeep to work again before the police got there, and I got into it with every intention to just leave. But, when I heard the police sirens, I just put my car in reverse, going back to the parking space behind me by the dumpsters, cutting the engine and the lights.

"While the officer was looking for a car in the area, I ducked behind the dashboard. He was in the school for about ten minutes before he came back outside, talking into his radio. I turned the one I have in my Jeep on, listening to the conversation."

"You know that's extremely illegal, right?" Lydia asked him. He gave her a look, causing her to shut up. "Sorry, continue."

"He had confirmed a prank call, going back to his patrol. And that caused me to start freaking out. So, against my better judgment, I raced back into the school and into the library, to find the scene completely free of blood, completely free of Donovan's body."

Lydia's eyes widened again. "It was gone? No trace?"

"None. The only thing that was proof that there was ever an accident there, was the small streak of blood left on one of the posts. Otherwise, it was completely clean. _Completely_ , Lydia."

For a moment, they just sat there, staring at each other. They were wondering how this could be possible. How could that happen within the time span of about twenty minutes? How was it possible?

Then, Stiles did the unthinkable. He started crying.

Lydia's eyes showed sympathy as she watched a tear roll down his cheek. She brought her free hand up to his left cheek, wiping away the stray tear. "Stiles, calm down. None of this is your fault. It was simply self-defense. Every part of it was justifiable," she told him, trying to make him feel better.

He stood up from his spot on the bar stool, letting both of her hands drop to her sides as he started pacing around the kitchen. "I killed someone, Lydia. I _killed_ someone. How is that justifiable?"

"He was trying to kill you, too!"

"No. He made it very clear that he was only going to tear my legs from my body. Still gruesome, but not murder, Lydia. _I_ murdered _him_."

His breathing started to become labored. His eyes darted all around. His hands started shaking even fiercer than before. Lydia knew what was happening.

He was in the midst of a panic attack.

Quickly, Lydia ran over to him, gripping his shoulders in her hands, trying to get him to look at her. "Stiles, you know this was self-defense. You know it was! You have to stop beating yourself up about this. He was going to harm you. He was going to do horrible things to you. You had every right to pull that ring on him. You didn't know that one of the posts was going to impale him. This. Is not. Your fault," she tries to tell him, trying to get him to focus on her voice.

He shook his head, his breathing even more labored as his chest rose up and down rapidly, drops of sweat starting to roll down the side of his face. Lydia started lowering him to the floor, getting him to prop himself up on his hands, hers still on his shoulders.

"Stiles, breathe. This wasn't your fault. You did everything you could to get away from him. It's self-defense. This is not your fault. It's not!"

Stiles didn't seem to be listening to her as his eyes screwed shut, trying to calm himself down. But it wasn't working.

Lydia contemplated solving the problem like she did last time. She was worried it would have a different affect this time, because now he had a girlfriend. Would it constitute as cheating? Oh, who the hell cares? He's practically dying in front of her.

So, she grabbed his cheeks, pulling his face up to meet hers. Just like last time, she rubbed his cheeks as his eyes opened, looking frightened as he looked back into her green eyes. She tried sushing him a few times, before leaning forward and harshly pressing her lips to his.

They molded just as perfectly as they did the last time they kissed. Soft against slightly chapped. And even though he had a girlfriend, just as passionate as the previous one.

When they pulled away what felt like hours later, they stared into each other's eyes as intensely as they did in the locker room just last year. With all of the shit they've gone through in the past year, it feels like it's been centuries since their time spent in the locker room floor. Back when their problems, though seemed taxing at the time, were nowhere near as troubling as this time around.

They don't know how long they just sit there staring at each other. It could've been seconds. It could've been minutes. It could've been hours. Neither of them were really sure.

"Why did you do that?" Stiles whispered, effectively breaking the silence that had consumed them.

Lydia let out a small laugh, looking down at the ground with a smirk before her eyes traveled back to Stiles' whiskey ones. "I read somewhere that holding your breath can stop a panic attack. So, when I kissed you, you held your breath," she said, repeating the words she said when she saved him from his previous attack.

He smirked back at her, rolling his eyes. "I did?"

She nodded her head. "Yeah, you did."

And for the next two hours, they sat on the couch in her living room, eating ice cream and watching comedies to try and lift Stiles' spirts to ensure that he wouldn't have another panic attack. It worked, and when his dad called him, asking him where we was, he was sad when he had to go.

As he walked down the pathway of her driveway to his Jeep, a smile on his face at the goodnight kissed she placed upon his cheek, there was only one thing that consumed his thoughts. Or, one person.

There was no way in hell he was over the strawberry blonde, green eyed, five foot three beauty named Lydia Martin.


	2. The Crisp Bill

Breaking it off with Malia had been hard.

After the kiss he shared with Lydia the night he killed Donovan, there was obviously no question on who Stiles thought he belonged with. Stiles had been with the wrong girl for a few months shy of a year. He couldn't believe that he had been so blind.

But he knew that there was this underlying part in him that knew that it had always been Lydia and that it will always be Lydia. There was no denying that.

He really did feel guilty breaking things off with Malia. Stiles had been pretty much her first everything. First person she really opened up to, first kiss, first boyfriend, first time. Those were a lot of firsts to be weighing upon his shoulders. So, if he hadn't felt the least bit of remorse for breaking things off with the brunette, he would question if he were really human or not.

Let's just say that things with Malia didn't go too well. Upon being many firsts for Malia, he was also her first breakup. So, she had never experienced one before. She didn't know what to expect or what to do.

So, what she decided to do was throw a hair dryer at his head, effectively hitting the target.

After a rather substantial amount of blood trickled down the left side of his face from his forehead, he booked it out of the Tate's household before Mr. Tate could get ahold of his gun, hopping into his Jeep and speeding down the street.

And that's how he was subconsciously led here. Sitting in his Jeep in the driveway of the Martin household.

It's strange how he knew just exactly he knew how to get to her house. All of those nights up late studying or researching the next supernatural force they were dealing with. He had been to the Martin's house so many times, he was starting to think it was close to adding up the amount of times he'd been to Scott's.

He just sits in the driver's seat of his Jeep, his shaking hands tapping against the black steering wheel as he contemplates actually going in or not. It suddenly felt like all of those nervous emotions from sophomore year were rushing back, planting themselves in the pit of his stomach.

Yes, Lydia and his relationship had progressed very far in the past three years. Really far, actually. If someone told him that Lydia Martin would willingly let Stiles Stilinski into her house to study just for the hell of it, he would've laughed in your face and told you you were crazy.

He had gotten so used to being ignored by the strawberry blonde for the majority of his life, that when she started opening up to him at the end of sophomore year, he literally didn't know what to do.

Until he did. They got closer and closer until she nearly knew him better than his best friend did, and he nearly knew her better than her best friend did. Stiles didn't know about her, but he often found himself looking back on the time they've spent together over the past few years, and he finds himself wondering just how the hell it happened, but thanking God that it did.

A sigh falls from his lips as he looks back up at the front door of the Martin household through the windshield of his Jeep that really needs to be cleaned. His eyes venture up to a window on the second floor, a light visible through the white curtains in the night air. Glancing at the clock, the digital numbers glow the time of 9:31.

And finally, without another moment's thought, he pushes his door open, taking the keys with him as he shuts it behind him, walking up the cement pathway to the front door.

He rocks back and forth from the heels to the balls of his feet after he rings the doorbell, waiting for the five foot three banshee to answer the door. He knew her mother wasn't home. Natalie Martin is always working late or out on the town with her friends. Even if it is only Thursday night.

Seconds later, he hears the distinct sound of heels against wood come closer to the door in front of him. She must've not changed out of her school clothes yet, he thinks. He wonders where she went after school that entitled her to still be wearing her school clothes.

The door opens, showering Stiles with light from the interior of the house. Lydia's face shows one of surprise as she leans against the door frame, her arms crossed over her chest as she glances at the boy in front of her.

Stiles can see the goosebumps rise on the pale, bare legs of the girl as she stands before him in only a red dress with flowers that has cap sleeves, a v neck line, and goes to right above her knee. His eyes glance down at her shoes quickly, noticing those familiar tan wedges that she seems to wear all the time.

His whiskey eyes meet her green ones as she looks at him with a quirked eyebrow.

"What are you doing here, Stiles? It's half past nine," she says, her voice filled with curiosity at the boy's presence on her front porch. "And what happened to your head?"

A large hand with skinny fingers comes up behind his neck, scratching there awkwardly as he looks at her. He had completely forgotten about the trail of blood that flowed down his face from Malia. It was probably dry by now, making it look worse than it actually was.

"Well, there are some things that I want to talk to you about," Stiles says vaguely, bringing his hand from his neck and into his front pocket, along with his other hand that rests in his other front pocket. "Can I come in?"

Lydia nods her head, stepping aside to let him in. After he steps over the threshold, she closes the door behind him, walking past him and into the living room to take a seat on one of the couches. She pats the spot next to her as he stands still by the door, gesturing him to come sit by her.

"Don't worry," she starts with a smirk, "I don't bite."

He rolls his eyes as he walks over to her, plopping down a little too close for comfort for someone who has a girlfriend that's not the girl sitting next to him, or that's what she's thinking, anyway.

"No, but you do scream," he reminds her with a smirk of his own. Lydia just rolls her eyes, now, trying to avoid the fact that his arm is pressed against hers, his leg slightly brushing hers in the least possible way, but it still manages to get butterflies stirring in her stomach.

"So, what do you want to talk about?" she asks him after a few minutes of temporary silence.

Another sigh falls from the boy's lips as he leans his head back against the couch, running his hands over his face. He can feel the dried blood from the left side of his face run roughly across his hands as he pulls them down his face.

Lydia's eyebrows scrunch up in confusion, seeing that the brown haired boy next her is obviously very troubled. She adjusts her body a bit so she's facing him more. "Stiles, what's wrong?" the redhead asks, more concern etched into her tone.

With one last sigh, Stiles pulls his head up from the back of the couch, turning it slightly to look at the beautiful girl before him.

"Malia and I broke up."

They are five words that are so simple but can mean so much. Can mean so many different things.

To one person, it could be absolutely exhilarating. They're finally free of a relationship they had been suffocating in prior to breaking it off. They couldn't be happier.

Or, maybe they're happy in a sense of it not being their own breakup, but someone's they knew they couldn't have because they were taken.

Or, maybe happy in the sense of being able to reveal their feelings to a person they couldn't before, because they were tied down in a relationship they knew wasn't going anywhere.

And then to another person, it could be absolutely devastating. They just ended a relationship that meant a great deal to them. They don't know what to do. They're absolutely crushed.

Or, maybe sad in a sense that they're sad that it's over, but they knew that it wasn't going to last.

Lydia knew which one of those scenarios she was feeling, but she wasn't quite sure what Stiles was feeling.

He had this emotionless type look on his face, almost as if he didn't know what he should feel at that point. And she didn't blame him. As far as she knew, this had been his first breakup.

"You did?" she asks after a long pause, trying to keep her voice steady as she utters the words. "And why did that happen?"

His whiskey eyes find her again after they had strayed, his eyes obviously holding much more emotion than his facial features. He had this look in his eyes like he did back before Malia was ever in the picture. Back when he was still head over heels for her.

She didn't want to get her hopes up. Many times she had waited for that moment to come, building herself up for it just to be disappointed and let down when it didn't come. She didn't want to feel like that again.

But the words that fall from his lips almost breathlessly next make her heart melt to a puddle in her shoes.

"Because I'm still in love with you."

To say the look on Lydia's face would be nothing less of surprised would be the understatement of the millennium. Her jaw had fallen open and her eyes were wide in the utmost surprise, Stiles didn't think it was humanly possible. But, for the record, she was a banshee.

She spluttered for a few moments before she could coherently form a sentence. "Wo-wow. Really?" Lydia asked in a very Stile-like fashion.

A groan falls from the boy's lips as he stands from the couch, running his hands through his freshly cut hair. It was cut much like it had been at the beginning of their junior year. Right after they dealt with the kanima, and right before they had to deal with the Darach. Back when they had the least bit of normalcy in their lives.

"I knew you would react like this. How could I think for one minute that you would reciprocate any of the feelings I have for you? I mean, after nearly ten years I should've gotten the hint, don't you think? But I just can't seem to stop hoping and waiting for you to feel the same. But I'm obviously delirious. You know what? I'll just go home and—"

His sentence is cut off when the strawberry blonde—who he didn't even know got up from her spot on the couch and crossed the living room toward him—grabs his face in her hands much like she did that afternoon of the panic attack, steps on her tiptoes, and presses her lips to his forcefully, effectively shutting him up.

A content sigh falls from Stiles' lip as his hands fall to the curve of her hip as he takes a little breath in before slowly moving his lips with hers. If she shut him up like this every time he went off on a rant, he would go on one as much as he possibly could around her.

For years Stiles had imagined this moment happening. Sure, they had kissed before, but those kisses were to save his life. Sure, there had been other ways of stopping a panic attack rather than planting your lips on someone, but they were in moments of haste. Confusion. They didn't mean anything.

But this kiss, this kiss was real. There was no panic attack. No supernatural threat hanging over their heads, making them feel like they were running out of time. No, this kiss was just Stiles and Lydia. Finally coming together like all of their friends had been expecting. Like all of their friends had been betting on.

So when they walk into school the next day, fingers wrapped around another's, Scott begrudgingly took a twenty out of his pocket, slapping the money into his girlfriend's hand while she wore a triumphant smirk, curling her fingers around the crisp bill.


End file.
